Blow(106)

She had me.

She had me like no one ever had.

She had me hanging on every word.

She had me jumping through hoops.

She could have had me any way she wanted me.

Did she even know what she was doing to me right now? The way she was breaking me down, making me rethink everything?

In her eyes, I could see the panic, hear the pleading, smell the fear.

My resolve was being held together by a tattered string about ready to snap. Unable to look at her for fear it would, I turned around, and with a sharp intake of breath, I answered the call.

After all, I’d only ever had one choice.





ELLE


My heart.

My racing heart dropped into my stomach.

My heart.

It was here and then it was gone.

I could still see it, though. Slick muscle tissue that pounded faster and faster while held in the palms of his hands.

He had the ability to crush it right here and now.

Crush me.

Did he even realize that?

My fingers splayed across the window. My eyes pleaded. My body begged. Words were leaving my lips, but I knew he couldn’t hear them.

Still, I spoke them.

“Logan, I love you. I would never hurt you. I didn’t know what Michael had planned. I just found out two days ago. I wanted to tell you. I reached out to you to tell you what Michael asked me to do. But you didn’t want me. Why are you here? Why are you acting like this? Why won’t you listen to me? Why?”

I was babbling.

Spilling everything I could. Begging him to listen with every ounce of my being.

He placed his hands on his lean hips.

Dropped his head.

Lifted his chin.

Looked at me.

Looked away.

I was still babbling.

Then, as if he could hear me through the glass, he tucked his phone in his pocket and took a step toward me. Then another. And another still. He didn’t stop until his hands splayed against the window right where mine were.

Mirror images of each other.

His stare locked on mine and we spoke to each other in a way we never had.

Deep.

Heartfelt.

True.

Not words.

Emotions.

Emotions that seemed to seep out of his eyes and into mine. Emotions that, if I was reading him right, mimicked my own.

Could that be?

After a moment, or two, or maybe three, he slowly removed his hands from the glass and the connection was lost. When he started to walk away, I knew I had read him wrong.

Like a rag doll, I collapsed to the floor on my knees. Burying my face in my hands, I cried for everything in my life I’d lost, for what I was doing, for who I was—the weak, pathetic girl my father had always known me to be.

“I am listening,” he said in that low, husky voice that did something to my insides.

Snapping my gaze, I looked over toward the door, the sound, him. His arms were crossed over his chest and he was standing in the open doorway, the door itself locked in the open position. He looked dauntless.

Had he heard me?

For the first time since we met, he seemed intimidating. Like a powerhouse. Strong. Fearless. Unyielding. Tougher than his beautiful face and body let on. “Talk to me. What was the plan? We don’t have much time.”

On shaky legs, I rose to my feet. “Much time for what?”

Logan stepped inside and pushed against the mechanism that kept the door open. Once it closed, he locked it and looked at me. His eyes were distant, his expression blunted by fear or maybe hatred.

I hoped not hatred.

Something pulsed beneath my skin—despair, sorrow, love, agony? Maybe all of those feelings rolled into one.

With quick strides, he closed the distance between us and I felt like we weren’t lost in this sea of a world where neither of us belonged. Yet, I knew we were. His hands on my shoulders sent that familiar energy zapping through my body and I knew that despite everything, he didn’t hate me. “Elle, I need to know the plan.”

My thoughts were humming inside my brain. “Logan, it’s not what you think. I didn’t know. All I knew up until a couple of days ago was that Michael said he’d handle it. I thought he meant legally, or—no that’s not true, I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t this. I had no idea what his actual plan was. If I had, I would have told you.”

“I believe you. I do. Now, please, tell me what he asked you to do.”

My breath was coming fast, but my words came even faster. “He told me that the coke would be delivered tonight or tomorrow morning.”

“From where? From who?” Logan cut in before I could finish.

“I don’t know. He never said and I never asked.”

“Where’s the delivery slip?”

I pointed to the counter.

He darted over to it and picked up the pink piece of paper, and then shook his head. “It was COD?”

I nodded. “Michael told me to pay with one of my company checks.”

He shook his head. “The only portion completed is the ‘ship to’ information. Any idea who sent it?”

Nerves rattled me. “No. The plastic bags were on a pallet and it was wrapped in cellophane. The driver cut open the sealed pallet and carried the bags in.”

Logan’s expression was raw. “What did O’Shea want you to do with them?”